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One year later, you’re still on the island.
“Sue, we were stuck here for like, ten years,” you say, in what is most definitely not a whine. “Aren’t you already, I don’t know, sick of this place?”
“It’s been a year since you’ve last been here, quit being a baby,” Sue says, blandly. Her exasperated face is more over-exaggerated than anything, but she’s also been sniffling dangerously for the past ten minutes, so you decide not to push it. The longest she’s managed to stay human is about half a day, before she sneezed and ruined it. “And it’s not me who suggested we go, it was Mom.”
“You could’ve said something,” you grumble. The cavern that used to be the Plantation is massive by any standard, but it still makes you claustrophobic. It’s easy to overlook in favour of not shitting your pants on this rickety old bridge. “This place is just gonna make your nose itchy.”
“What do you think the mask is for?”
She doesn’t turn to fix you with what is surely an unimpressed stare, but she does choose to sway the ropes instead, wood creaking as she skips ahead of you. You’d politely ask her to stop if it didn’t mean unclenching.
“Besides, don’t pretend like you didn’t want to come, either.”
The bridge shudders even as she steps off, planting sandalled feet firmly into the soil. She turns, grinning smugly at you. It takes every bone in your body (and the threat of a hundred foot drop) to not pull a childish face at her.
You don’t care what she says. You’d rather be anywhere but here, and you’re not pining!
“You all need to hurry up,” your mother calls, from the bottom of the slope. Sue is already skidding down, dirt flying as she goes. “The teleporter room is right over there. Watch your step!”
You half-expect the teleporter not to work. The room is bare, corners sprouting cobwebs, and the rusty metal of the teleporter looks like it’s going to collapse in on itself any second now. Still, Sue and your mom have been here more than you have, and they don’t seem concerned. If your sister presses closer to your side than before, it’s probably because you’re trying to teleport three people at once. You sure hope you don’t find out what happens when it breaks halfway.
“We’re here!”
It must be practice that lets Sue hop off first, movements every bit as graceful as yours probably wouldn’t be if you weren’t disoriented enough to hurl. Then again, it’s not like you got teleported around a lot back when you were still on the island. It’s both a blessing and a curse. It’s because of it that you can recognize your surroundings, even past your dizziness, and the smell of the aged machinery and unpolished wood is making your stomach churn, everything teetering on the edge of familiarity. No one else spares anything a second glance – maybe you should’ve visited, at least once. If this is nostalgia, it’s not as great as people make it out to be.
“Guys, c’mon! Jack’s waiting for us in the Assembly Hall!”
Mimiga Village is bustling with the patter of furry feet, squeaks of voices rising above the clatter of tools and baskets and children screaming. Cognitively, you know it’s just as dark as it was back when you’d visited, all those years ago, but with the Mimiga returned and thriving, even the grass seems livelier, sprouting bright green out of the wood and hard soil. What little you’d seen of Mimiga Village back then – quiet, desolate, empty – seems like a figment of your imagination in comparison.
They seem to have shrunk, though (or, impossibly, you’ve grown taller) – the second you stop watching your step, you’re going to accidentally crush one of them, or something. Some of them are barely taller than the grass – something stiff scuffs the skin of your palms and, in lieu of your knee-jerk reaction of snapping your arm frantically, you sneeze. Sue looks at you, distastefully. She’ll never know how bad your hay fever got back when she was a Mimiga 24/7. At least your outburst made what was presumably Mimiga skitter away in a startled shuffle.
“God, Kazuma, you’re so slow,” Sue complains, looking down at you atop the – the thing that can be very loosely described as a staircase, one clearly not made without any concern for those with weak and creaky human legs. You take a break from your heaving to look up – she’s still definitely human-looking, green hair quickly accumulating dust and tangles. How the heck did she get up there so fast? “Look, just walk along that plank over there – now you gotta jump. C’mon – oh, geez.”
She groans when she finally manages to pull you up onto the ledge, letting your feet dangle dangerously above certain death. “You’re hopeless, ugh!”
“It took you long enough,” your mom says, amused, when you finally crawl into the hall with what little dignity you have left. Professor Booster is at the other side of the room, attempting to warm his hands at the fireplace, and beside him, a Mimiga nods at you in greeting. Sue snorts, muffled by thin cotton.
“It was Kazuma’s fault,” she says, sniffing. You’re offended, but also, she’s not wrong. “He wasn’t moving fast enough.”
“We’re here, and that’s what matters!”
“That’s right,” Professor Booster pipes up, still concentrating on getting his hands heated up. “It’s hard to believe we’re all here in one piece, an entire year after everything happened.”
“The Village is looking a lot better under your guidance, Jack,” your mother adds, addressing the Mimiga (whose name is apparently Jack – you have a feeling you were introduced before, but that was so long ago). He tips his hat – Mimiga don’t blush, but the feet tapping and the nose twitching is all you need to know he’s as pleased as his embarrassment will let him be. “I have to commend you. The Mimiga look like they’re dealing well with all the change.”
“It’s thanks to your help, of course,” Jack deflects, nose still twitching in the warm air. Sue rolls her eyes, the door creaking gently as she leans against it. Jack went from the number-two of the village to the number-one, but he’s still working on remembering it, apparently. “Especially with the farming initiative. It was hard getting everyone to eat new flowers, but it’s grown on them. That said, I think we’re going to run out of sunflower seeds if we can’t keep it under control…”
“I think we could arrange something to fix that. If you give us a list of the flowers they’ve taken to, we can bring some more next time.”
“Uh, I’d hate to interrupt, but,” and you really do, because all eyes in the room are on you in an instant, various degrees of confusion, curiosity and boredom drilling into your skull, “what are we here for? That you’d have to bring me along for, I mean.”
Your mother stares at you. Then she stares at Sue.
“I thought you told him?”
She shrugs.
“I sort of assumed he knew? Or could figure it out.”
“It’s been exactly one year since the Doctor – and the Demon Crown – was destroyed,” the Professor says, apparently having had his fill of soot and temporary warmth. He steps past the blackboard, Jack following close behind. You have a feeling you’re going to want to hit yourself once he tells you what’s up.
“It’s the anniversary – we’re celebrating!”
It explains the sheer ton of food they’d insisted on you carrying in your backpack. They haven’t decided where to eat – you’ve figured at least this out from their near-shouting on the way out the door and the fact that you fail to move for the next ten minutes. And they said ‘we’ – who exactly was going to show up to celebrate? Some of the Mimiga have begun staring at your backpack hungrily, and it’s honestly making you nervous.
A bright purple Mimiga shows up, wearing – lipstick? – and ribbons. Then one whose name is apparently ‘Santa’ also shows up, only making the atmosphere noisier and more excitable. Then one with a fishing rod, a large one in a green shirt, an old-looking one hunched over and hobbling – just when you’re sure the platform of stone is going to fall apart beneath your feet at the weight of them all, Jenka arrives with all her puppies.
You still kind of want to hit yourself.
Of course you’re glad you made it off the island, and that the island didn’t fall and everyone left on it survived – you’re not trying to deny that. The years you spent estranged from your home, your friends, your family – it was like a nightmare you never thought would end. It became all you knew – and there were times you didn’t want to know anything anymore. That first breath of fresh air, reaching the Outer Wall; the weight of the earth sure and certain beneath your feet for the first time in years – it was like waking up again, dreams forgotten in the face of the morning sun.
You had been determined, no matter what, to make it off the island. There was a moment, though, where nobody else would have; where everyone would be left behind and you’d still be safe, waking hours tainted by nightmares mixed into memories.
If anything, you should be even more glad that things turned out the way they did. There’s no reason to not celebrate along with them, laugh along with Sue and dance around with the Mimiga, but something’s missing. Celebrating doesn’t feel right, not yet, not even a whole year after it’s all been over.
Something.
Sue is wrong: you’re not pining.
Then the ceiling caves in.
There is shouting (you may have been one of the loudest contributors. There are no witnesses). The Mimiga sitting around you screech and scatter, taking the hundred foot death leap like it’s no big deal and disappearing into dark corners and open doors. One of the baskets tip over and plunges to its untimely death, abandoned by a panicked Professor. Your mother darts over to make sure you’re all okay, and she almost trips on a piece of rubble. Sue sneezes, and she’s replaced by a mass of distressed white fur. You almost (almost) piss your pants. It’s a disaster.
“Look, I got us there, first try!”
You feel Sue tense beside you, new hackles raised above the collar of her dress. Your mother freezes mid-step; Jenka’s puppies start barking.
You stop breathing.
“You couldn’t have tried making a better landing?”
The dust settles unbearably slowly. Distantly, you realize your bag has been crushed by the heap of – something (and you sure are glad that you’d already eaten half the food before you even got here) that just fell out of the sky. There’s the silhouette of a large shape, disturbingly familiar, keeping Mimiga on edge and your sister on the verge of baring her teeth and growling. Then there’s another, light striking gold in the clearing, figure more human and similar.
“Oh, look! It really is Mimiga Village!”
You’re almost run over – by a gaggle of Mimiga, of all things, rushing over to the sound of the voice unbidden. A girlish laugh – the figure steps out of the veil of dust, revealing white skin more than human and a body too thin and fragile to possibly have survived such an impact. They – she – laughs again, louder, spinning one of the Mimiga around in her arms as the others jump excitedly around her, and the shape hidden in the dust shudders, shaking off pebbles and remainders of stone.
You step back, despite yourself. That toaster-looking thing – that thing that took Toroko, that took Sue, and the other Mimiga, and killed them – jumps out of the wreckage, making the ground tremble beneath. Another step – your mother’s hand is suddenly tight on your shoulder, steady and firm.
Jenka wheels forward.
“So you made it after all, Balrog.”
He huffs, a short laugh like pistons wheezing. Your mother’s hand is gone. She’s still hovering, though.
“How couldn’t I? Especially since everyone was so excited to go!”
“Yeah, Quote was excited, if you can believe it,” the girl says, from where she’s seated on the grass, Mimiga on her lap and in her hair. You’ve never seen her before, and from the looks of it, neither has Sue, eyeing the Mimiga around the girl apprehensively. Professor Booster said there were two – your thoughts are racing all at once and they’re tripping over each other, an irreversible tangle of wild tangents.
Quote. A name you’ve never heard before (if it’s a name at all), but your heart speeds up, anyway.
You know your sister would say you’re pining, right now. But celebrating, being happy – how can you do that without remembering how it was all possible at all? How can you celebrate when you know that you’d be stuck in a shelter with a broken teleporter, starving to death, had it not been for him? The boy who had disappeared from your life as soon as he’d appeared, and without him, you wouldn’t even have one.
It’s been a year since he’d come and gone, but you’ve never been able to let go of the hope to see him again.
There are no more figures stepping out from the rubble. What’s left is a tense moment staring at the dissipating dust, air shifting with slow and creaking movements. The Mimiga that fled slowly shuffle back, ears twitching and eyes wide and curious. You step forward – then again. Soon the steps become a steady walk, even against your sister’s confused calling, even against the fact that the dirt is making your eyes hurt and your nose itchy.
You don’t know what you’re walking towards until you’re standing in front of it – them – sprawled on the ground, stunned and unmoving from the impact.
Dark blue eyes stare up at you.
You hold out your hand.
“Kazuma.”
The hand in yours is firm and unchanged, the fabric of the glove rough and tattered.
“I’m Quote.”
You sneeze on him.
“You planned this,” you sulk, because if there’s anything you’re justified in doing right now, it’s sulking. “You did this on purpose. To your big brother, of all people.”
Sue slaps you on the shoulder. Even as a soft Mimiga paw, it still stings a bit. “Oh, shush! As if you weren’t thrilled out of your mind! You should’ve seen your face – you had the dorkiest smile ever and your face was all–”
“Sue, no!”
She cackles, falling to the floor with the force of her laughter, and you wonder where that innocent little sister of yours went, the one that looked up to you and didn’t hit you on the shoulder. (Now that you think about it, at least half of that innocent sister existed when you were forced apart. That means you must’ve made up the other half.)
“Anyway, how could we have planned it?” Sue says, after she’s calmed down enough to form coherent words. “Did we hypnotise them, or something? They were, like, half a planet away. We didn’t even know where they were.”
“Oh, I heard Mom and Jenka talking. This entire thing was a conspiracy orchestrated by the sinister likes of you, all in cahoots in your scheme!”
“What, to sneeze on him? That was all you. Do you want my face mask?”
“Uh, you sneezed on it already.”
“We have extra ones,” your Mom’s voice materializes from the void, and you try not to jump out of your skin. You didn’t survive a year to die from something so pathetic. “And it might’ve been a little planned. Balrog and Misery visit Jenka every once in a while, and Jenka suggested they come back for the anniversary. We didn’t really expect them to show up, however.”
“But you knew they were all together.”
She shrugs, smiling apologetically. Which is completely unfair, because of course you can’t get mad at your mother. For one, she could probably actually put you through the floor.
Sue slumps on the table, yawning. Across you, Sandaime is already fast asleep, head nodding every so often against his shoulder. After all the Mimiga were sufficiently convinced that the giant toaster wasn’t here to kill them (a difficult feat, but they’d been swayed by the promise of food, and also the word of the robot you’re told is Curly), they all trailed into Yamashita Farm. (Mostly because the promise of food was empty.)
If the ceiling of the cavern hadn’t been visible, you could almost be convinced that you were still on the surface, looking upon a blooming flower field. You’d never seen the farm in your time on the island, but you’d seen the flowers they ate, small and yellow. Now flowers of every size and description grow on the fields, burying the dirt in a sea of gold. Sunflowers, marigolds, tulips, daisies – the sweet scent overpowers the generally damp and stuffy air of the caves. Even up here, watching over everyone on an elevated platform, you can smell the plants growing.
You’re pretty sure in a few minutes, there won’t be any plants, if they keep eating at this rate. Just like Jack said, the sunflowers have disappeared in a flurry of white fur. You don’t know what they were talking about when it came to Mimiga only being strong rabid – they look plenty terrifying now.
“Ugh, what time is it, even? Doesn’t it ever get dark here?”
“It’s already pretty dark here, Sue. It does get darker – there are vents leading to the top of the island. We’ve been thinking of making bigger ones and fixing up tunnels.”
Your mother pauses. Curly is waving excitedly from next to a patch of decimated daisies, mouthing something you can’t make out. Your mom does, apparently, because she sends a thumbs up back, earning (a much more enthusiastic) one back. Then your mom stands, brushing off her lab coat and flipping her hair back over her shoulder.
“Well, I should be helping Professor Booster with creating a method of keeping away pests like the mushrooms and skulls. We were considering guns, but we have a feeling it won’t sit well with the Mimiga. That aside; Sue, you should probably leave, too.”
“What, why can’t I… ohhh.”
Sue tries to tamp down a smirk. She fails. You clearly must not care much for your own well-being, because you fail to move from the spot and hide in the nearest hole.
“Okay. I’ll go visit Toroko’s grave. But I’ll be back!”
She makes sure to pull a few flowers as she goes, hopping off the platform into the main cave. Your mom leaves, too, but not before turning to give you (a frankly ominous) smile, like you’re supposed to be getting a secret you don’t. You’re only getting more and more convinced that this is all just a massive conspiracy.
That’s when Quote steps onto the other end of the platform.
That’s when you know this is all a conspiracy.
He doesn’t say anything as he moves to sit across you. You don’t say anything, either, but that’s mostly because you’ll only make a fool of yourself if you do, and you have nothing to say. (Nothing that wouldn’t make you a fool, anyway.) For whatever reason, you don’t want to meet his stare, but when you manage to peer at him out of the corner of your eye, he’s not looking at you, gaze wandering over the people occupying the farm.
You wonder if he knows what he’s done – saving the whole island. Or rather, you wonder whether it’s had any sort of emotional impact on him (assuming he has emotions the way humans – the way you do). Maybe the fact that he’s saved lives and prevented the fall of the surface means nothing to him. Maybe he just thinks he’s doing his duty. You know it doesn’t change anything, either way, but you’d like to think that it makes him feel something. Like he can look at these people he’s freed and feel proud.
You turn to look at him properly, and suddenly he’s staring at you.
“Thanks,” you blurt, because that’s what’s been on the forefront of your mind for the past year. He blinks. That might actually be the first time you’ve ever seen him blink. “For, uh, killing the Doctor. And saving everyone, I mean. And saving me from the shelter.”
He nods, once, slowly. You keep talking, because apparently that’s the only thing stopping you from combusting on the spot.
“I couldn’t believe you’d actually done it, you know? And you didn’t just kill him, you destroyed the Demon Crown, too. That’s not something just anyone can do, but I think I knew that if anyone could do it, you could. And, well, your blond friend, too, from what I understand of it. I was just – well, I regretted not being able to say ‘thank you’, back then, before you disappeared.”
He nods again, but this time drops his gaze to the wood in front of him. You know that he’s always been quiet, but his body language doesn’t help you guess at his thoughts at all. This situation is just getting worse and worse by the second.
“And… I suppose I also wanted to apologize. For asking if you wanted to escape with me. It was selfish of me, and I’m sorry.”
“Don’t,” he says, suddenly, and even though it was only barely audible over the lively conversation below, you almost jump at its abruptness. “Because. I considered it. I thought. That it would be nice.”
And that’s the end of it. That’s the longest you’ve ever heard him speak at once. A lot is left unspoken, but you know what he means, eyes once more meeting yours; he almost left them behind, too.
“Guess that was bad of both of us,” you say, and the relieved laughter is spilling with the words before you can catch it. Maybe it’s not relief, necessarily. Back then, he’d almost been a pillar of justice, his duty necessitating strong resolve and selflessness. Still, you’re glad to hear that he’d considered the offer you thought baseless, that in that moment he’d thought of himself as well. It’s unfair to him, you know, to try and project something onto him that he’s clearly not, but the knowledge is almost humanising, in a way.
He stares at you. He doesn’t quite smile (you don’t know if he can), but he tilts his head, just slightly, lips twitching upwards in a shy mimicry.
“Thank you,” he says, and now it’s your turn to stare, because that’s about the last thing you ever deserve to hear. “For not treating me differently. After finding out that I was a robot. People get scared. They think me and Curly are the same as the robots eleven years ago.”
“You’re not?”
He shakes his head vigorously. You’re starting to wonder if the cap is bolted to his head, because it doesn’t move at all. “Eleven years ago. There were robots from the surface. Their mission was to capture the crown. They failed. Me and Curly were sent to destroy it. The slaughter of Mimiga...”
His hands clench into fists on the table. They do not shake the same way humans’ do, but the coil of tension is still there, a low thrumming through the wood’s surface. “That wasn’t us. When we arrived, they were all dead.”
You look at his hands, still wound in frustration. You resist the urge to place your hands on top of them. You have no idea what to say to that.
Below, some of the Mimiga appear to have fallen asleep on the spot, their appetites sated. Sandaime jolts (and you almost do, too, because you completely forgot he was there) and curses as he hobbles off to turn off the sprinklers – one had activated and doused shrieking children with cold water. The kids don’t seem to mind them, though, if anything delighted by the accident as they run circles in what is quickly becoming mud. Curly jumps up from where she’d been sitting with the purple Mimiga (Chako?), and it takes all the effort of four Mimiga to stop her from destroying the sprinkler.
“Who is she, to you?”
It’s a pathetic line of questioning, even for you. You figure that if you’ll never see him again, you may as well embarrass yourself for the rest of eternity. If your sister had heard, you’d never hear the end of it. It’s as good as an admission, and you tell yourself that you are definitely not jealous. That’d only be justified if you had a chance at all. (And if you’d been pining. Which you hadn’t.)
He turns to look, too, watching Curly laughing and rubbing her neck apologetically. Then she’s squealing as some of the Mimiga shake violently, droplets of water splattering everywhere. By far, her behaviour is much more human than Quote’s. That doesn’t change anything, though.
“Curly was with me eleven years ago. We both didn’t know what happened when we woke up. But she remembered. She told me who I was and who we were. She’s the only person I’d trust in a fight.”
There’s a lot you could stop to ask, here. You could push yourself further down the road of lonely pathetic losers, and ask what sort of feelings he has towards her, just to crush your heart a bit more. You decide to take the less sad route, because no matter what your sister says, you are a responsible adult.
“So you still don’t remember?”
He looks down. You think he might be scowling. Maybe it was a better idea to humiliate yourself instead.
“No.”
Awkward silence ensues, this time thoroughly buried in discomfort. The noise in the farm is beginning to die down as Mimiga shuffle out of the cave, some yawning and others still chattering away excitedly. Quote waves back to Curly as she bounces out, but she doesn’t stop waving until you reluctantly wave back. Sandaime, still grumbling, shuffles back into his seat, but he’s looking noticeably more satisfied. (It probably has to do with the entire square of flowers missing from the field.) He doesn’t bother to acknowledge you two as he goes back to dozing off.
“Your name,” you start, because apparently you don’t know when to stop and you love digging yourself deeper holes, “Quote. Can I call you that?”
He looks confused, but nonetheless responds, levelly, “yes.”
“I’m glad we could meet each other again, Quote. I thought – I thought that I would never see you again. It would’ve been my greatest regret to not be able to thank you. Still, I think – well, it’d be nice to see you more often, I think.”
Quote stares at you. You were wrong. Your greatest regret was letting those words come out of your mouth. Then his mouth is twitching, attempting a smile he was never programmed to do.
“Me too.”
Too soon (and your sister isn’t a mind-reader, but she’s grinning all the same), you’re standing at the center of Mimiga Village again. Mimiga are scurrying around like normal, with the party hats and the party poppers being the only residual celebration obvious in their step. You and your sister were allowed to stay in Arthur’s house for the night – your mother set up camp in her bunker over at the Plantation. Quote and Curly, you weren’t really sure where they were staying – only that they’d woken you up this morning teleporting into the house.
Now you’re standing around in what would’ve been a circle, had you actually all been standing close enough to each other. As it is, you’re all awkwardly scattered around the narrow platform, vaguely facing towards the general direction of each other.
“I’ll stay for another day or so,” your mother says. If it’s a conversation-starter or a response to something, you don’t know – you were a bit distracted, honestly. “Since we’re just getting into the swing of things regarding village maintenance and defence. Sue and Kazuma, you are free to go home first, if you wish.”
“Thank god,” you can’t stop yourself from blurting. Your sister heaves a relieved sigh.
“Oh man, I was wondering when I could start being human again.”
“What about everyone else?”
Your mom says ‘everyone else’, but she’s looking pointedly at Curly Brace, who blinks to attention before smiling.
“Well, I thought that I could stay here for a while – I feel bad about leaving the Colons behind. I want to make it up to them! What do you think?”
The last bit is directed at Balrog, who scowls. If he’d had arms long enough, he’d be crossing them grumpily. “Do we have to? I was trapped here for ages, you know.”
Curly shrugs, unruffled. “I know what I want to do. You can stay here or go on without me. If you stay, you can choose the next place we visit! Promise!”
He’s already lost. It’s obvious in the way Balrog falters, taking a second too long in pretending to think about it before saying, “oh, fine.”
“What about you, Quote? What are you going to do?”
Quote looks at Curly, blankly, before looking at everyone else. He shrugs. You’re not sure what you were expecting.
“Guess that means he’s staying, too! Are you guys leaving soon?”
Honestly, you would’ve fled at light-speed the moment your mother had given the OK, but Quote’s stare keeps you pinned in place. He doesn’t look like he wants to say something – if anything, it looks like he’d rather never have to say anything at all – but he’s been staring at you intently for the past five minutes, as if waiting for something. That could just be you, though; he could also just be spacing out.
“Soon as we can!” Sue interjects, helpfully. “Well, as soon as the dragon is up for it. How is it, Kazuma?”
“I’m pretty sure she’s still asleep.” You can’t be certain, though, since she’s taken to sleeping in either the egg corridor or the Outer Wall, and she wasn’t in the egg corridor this morning. You weren’t looking forward to freezing your ass off facing thousand kilometre winds, so you didn’t bother to check. In any case, if she isn’t asleep, likely she’s flying around, in which case she’s good as asleep as far as transportation goes.
Sue visibly deflates. As in, her fur seems to flatten against her skin in dejection. “Oh. Well, until then, I guess we could help clean up.”
“She’ll be back before night falls – we can leave then, if you want.”
Then something is pulling at your lab coat.
That something turns out to be someone.
Quote’s face is as blank as always, but his grip on the hem of your coat is unusually tight, leaving creases and wrinkles.
“Kazuma.”
Suddenly you’re acutely aware that there is an audience in attendance, including (but not limited to) your entire remaining family. This doesn’t help you control the heat rising to your cheeks. Why does it feel like he’s calling you by your name a lot more often than before?
“Can I stay with you? Please.”
There’s a loud crash onto what worryingly sounds like roofing. You think Curly might have just pushed Balrog off the ledge of the platform.
His gaze up at yours is imploring, shifting to search your face. He’s yet to release his grip, but it doesn’t shake, or become tighter, or anything. Maybe he’s just not aware of his own strength and always puts too much pressure. Absently, you’re aware that you’ve said nothing for the past few minutes, working your mouth fruitlessly and staring uselessly at Quote, but you don’t even know where to begin. Did he mean – to live with you? To stay with you back on the surface? But why? Or are you just getting ahead of yourself and letting your imagination go wild?
“You know, Kazuma,” your mother starts, slowly, and she has that tone of voice that tells you that she is most definitely scheming something, and also you will lose just a little bit more control over your life. You turn to look at her, and as it turns out, she’d just started off slowly because her other hand is on Sue’s mouth. She’s literally vibrating. “You’d been sent here for your knowledge on flora and fauna, right? Given your work regarding the dragons.”
You’re not sure you like where this is going. Quote still hasn’t shifted from his spot.
“Yeah… why…?”
“I was just thinking it might be helpful for you to stay and assist us in defence. You know better than anyone how to deal with the creatures inhabiting this island; having you around would definitely move things along a lot faster.”
“Plus, we’re still going to be staying on the island!” Curly quickly jumps in, sounding way too excited for her motives to be anything but sinister. This conspiracy is much more far-reaching than you’d assumed it was. “So you guys would have more time to catch up!”
“Well, yes, that too. But really, it’s been a whole year, and the measures we have against attack still aren’t very reliable. Or effective.”
Quite frankly, you’ve got no idea how useful your knowledge on the animals here would be (what’s left of your knowledge, anyway). It’s been such a long time since you’ve actively used that information, called it to mind and utilised it, and in any case, a whole year is a long time when considering that the full effects of the Demon Crown and the red flowers are still unknown. That’s not what you’re concentrating on, though.
Quote’s eyes haven’t moved from yours the whole time, and proves whatever sort of theory you had wrong when he tightens his hold on the tip of your coat. Honestly? You have no idea what Quote thinks of you. You spent the better part of the year convinced that you were a bunch of syllables buried in a long line of credits that he could never be bothered to read. The other part was spent hoping that he didn’t hate you or think you something irredeemable for ever offering to leave the island alone. Today, all of that changed.
Now you’re more confused than ever. Here he is, telling you that he’d seriously considered your cowardly idea a year ago, that it had never demeaned you in his mind. Here he is, telling you that not only would he tolerate more time with you – he actually wants it. And – didn’t he remember your name, even after a year of never having seen you?
More than being confused, the worst part is that you’re happy.
“Alright, Quote,” you say. You hope you’re not smiling too wide. “I’d love for you to stay with me.”
He smiles back.
One year later, you’re still on the island.
Right now, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.